Wowzers! I have 40 hits today, which has got to be the highest amount in awhile. Of course a lot of them are from search engines that request "teen panties", but who cares? It is still considered linkage!
Christmas. Yesterday was the most hectic shopping day of the year (supposedly), and today we decorated inside. And here I sit with a Santa Claus hat on my head, surrounded by shades of green and red.
Ho, ho, ho.
Our tree is fake. It's been the same exact fake tree for as long as I can remember. Every year we went crazy with the designs of this artificial pine, except for this year. This year, we decorated the tree with white lights (that didn't flash or "chase", like in previous years), plastic apples, golden spheres, and a dazzle of pretty golden-painted beaded strings. The tree looks marvelously elegant this year, and the sole reason for it to be like that is because my mother wasn't around to complain that it wasn't "crazy". She's coming home tomorrow - she's going to complain. And, to be honest, the three decorators - my father, my brother, and I - don't care. Because we're holly, we're jolly, and we're guarenteed to have a good Christmas this year.
Yes, I join the crowds again for yet another questionaire. Learn something about me.
1. What is your favorite word? I don't tend to look through lots of books and all and think of certains words that I like, but I'd have to say that I like the word (and description) of the word hiccup.
2. What is your least favorite word? Like thegardencafe.com mentioned, I am not particularly fond of the word cunt. As Ms. Patti also mentioned, which is the best way to describe it: "To me, its the most offensive four letter word that can be used - especially when refering to a woman."
3. What turns you on? Politeness, proper grammar.
4. What turns you off? Bodily sounds, untidyness, lying, procrastination, being late. (Meredith is going to comment on the last one - I'm a hypocrite.)
5. What sound do you love? The sound of dress shoes on concrete as well as that moment before a film starts in the theatres and everyone's eating popcorn and shuffling. (The latter can only be achieved in a crowded theatre.)
6. What sound do you hate? Bodily sounds. I know that they are natural, but they just disgust me.
7. What is your favorite curse word? Hands down, it would have to be the word damn.
8. What profession other than yours would you like to attempt? Considering that my current profession is "student", I would want to be a journalist/photographer/intern/anything for ROLLING STONE magazine.
9. What profession would you not like to participate in? Ice-cream tester. Yes, they exist. I'd get incredibly terrible brain-freezes and it wouldn't be too good to test out nasty tasting ice creams.
10. If Heaven exists what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? God wouldn't speak - he'd hopefully gester his way in.
I am so trendy. Go me.
Thunderstorms are expected tomorrow. And Microsoft uses bright little lightning bolts to signify hell. No, this does not have to do with my brontophobia, but rather the fact that I didn't want it to be like this tomorrow so that I can actually go out and do something -- anything, really. I have not been outside this house for more than a half hour since Tuesday. I've been out to get insta-cookies, but that is it. And I just want to drive somewhere - but my car is not in the driveway. It's at the airport until Sunday (which, by the way, is expected to have some more bright colors in its weather system), since my mother is at her high school reunion up in Whitehall and her plane just had to leave at 6:00 am.
Barrymore Leaves Green at "SNL" altar - I didn't see that episode, but people that I know that did said that it seemed very fake and very disturbing. I wouldn't want to be in Barrymore's shoes, either: getting hitched on TV is not my piece of cake.
I only got one reply yesterday, so I have decided to not post it because I have a headache from it. I apologize, especially to the guy who decided to reply.
Perhaps the best kind of rice is a kind called couscous. It's smaller rice that's from Morocco that's really good. I bought some today. The only thing is that I (like always) didn't read instructions, and now I'm cooking an entire box of the stuff. And, well, a box of couscous is a lot - enough to fill up a 2-quart bowl.
Currently: (last week's)
Reading: City Lights: Pocket Poet's Anthology (edited by L. Ferlinghetti)
Watching: Back To The Future: Part One (on teevee)
Listening: My discovered files
Obsessing: The gorgeous Winona Ryder
Questionaire: What are you thankful for?
(Replies, if any, will be posted tomorrow. Have a happy Thanksgiving.)
Snow can wait /
I forgot my mittens /
Wipe my nose /
Get my new boots on /
I get a little warm in my heart /
When I think of winter /
I put my hand in my father's glove
Tori Amos, "Winter"
don't even bother trying /
to say something clever /
clever is as clever does /
no matter what it says /
i'm looking for a sign /
says you're for real this time /
but i don't trust what's in your head /
i walk up to the bar /
and point to the top shelf /
and then i throw my head back /
and laugh at myself /
i raise a toast to all our saviors /
each so badly behaved /
it's too bad that their world /
is the one that they saved
Ani DiFranco, "Deep Dish"
My plans for the Thanksgiving break are sparse. No one is visiting us, and no one is leaving to go visit anyone else. He is out of town, Patsy is going out of town tomorrow (I think), and Meredith is having family visit her. And my family will do what we do every year: make turkey sandwiches.
So, since all these plans are occurring, Patsy, Meredith, and myself plan on going downtown to enjoy the sights and sounds that every tourist experiences. We're going to RPM and Starbuck's. And, to be honest, I am very excited.
This MSN browser is scary looking, man. It's all very Microsoft-ego-ed. They have keywords on there, too; like, if you type Hotmail, you are sent to hotmail.com. And, like their competitor, you can have up to nine different users. Don't get "users" confused with "screen-names"... no, no, that'd be false advertising and copyright there. I'm surprised that MSN hasn't frozen on me yet.
(By the way, I'm not going to even attempt to blog from MSN. It's too scary and colorful. -- I prefer Netscape.)
Ladies and gentlemen, may I present: the street that I live on. (My house is actually one of the black dots located on the right side, right near where that vertical road intersects.)
One word: fuck.
OK, my parents have switched from our current ISP to Microsoft's little service with the purty little butterfly. (Really, it's attractive. Kudos to Mr. Bill.) So, anyway, I install it -- causing it, in its Microsoft way -- to freeze three or four times. Damn. That gives me a large enough piss factor to perhaps choke a small animal. I finally get the bastard installed, and it freezes. I restart, and then it won't let me log on. I uninstall, reinstall, repeatedly, until this last time, when it took longer. My father, at that exact moment, decided to tell me something very important:
"Diana, it isn't valid until tomorrow."
Oooh, that made me angry. So here I sit, on the old ISP, so close to freaking out and blaming everything that went wrong with this evening on Mr. Bill Gates... gr.
I did not die. And, as soon as I got to school and was reassured so giddily by the principal that I wasn't going to die, I felt better. Yes, I was paranoid the entire day; I always wanted someone to hug me. "Fred" went to school. He, Meredith, Patsy, everyone showed up -- er, mostly everyone. Some of my classes were very thin with attendees. Not like I can blame them.
I would've updated this to you earlier, if Blogger wasn't doing updates.
I'm going to school this morning, I suppose -- I mean, what are the chances that the entire "school shooting" thing is real? There have been lots of threats before, plus there is destined to be a drug search and an "intruder" alert. Lots of cops around, and plus the real victim (the teacher) isn't even going to be there -- so what's the point?
"Fred" (If you remember him) isn't going to school today, the bastard. I'm going just to see what happens and what doesn't happen... just so I can "fit in" with the whole thing.
I'll give you and update later -- for now, I have to finish my rented movie, re-sew a patch on my jeans, and finish the "Dynamite Dunes" level (yes, the second level) of Rollercoaster Tycoon. Sigh.
I've been tellin' my dreams to the scarecrow / 'bout the places that I'd like to see / I said, friend do you think I'll ever get there / ah, but he just stands there smilin' back at me / so I confessed my sins to the preacher / about the love I've been prayin' to find / is there a brown eye'd boy in my future, yeah / he says. girl you've got nothin' but time
but how do you wait for heaven / and who has that much time / and how do you keep your feet on the ground / when you know, that you were born, you were born to fly
my daddy, he's grounded like the oak tree / my momma, she is steady as the sun / oh you know I love my folks / but I keep starin' down the road / just lookin' for my one chance to run
yeah, 'cause I will soar away like the blackbird / I will blow in the wind like a sea / I will plant my heart in the garden of my dreams / and I will grow up where I'll wander wild and free
oh, how do you wait for heaven /
and who has that much time /
and how do you keep your feet on the ground /
when you know, that you were born /
you were born yeah /
you were born to fly
so how do you wait for heaven /
and who has that much time /
and how do you keep your feet on the ground /
when you know that you were born /
you were born to fly fly fly fly
Sara Evans, "Born to Fly"